THE PEN THAT KNEW THE TRUTH
The courtroom released an air of solemnity. The high ceilings, adorned with recessed lights, cast a warm glow over the room. The polished wooden benches stood in orderly rows, accommodating a mixture of spectators and members of the press. The judge’s elevated bench commanded attention, draped in a rich burgundy robe. A large mahogany desk, adorned with legal documents, served as the focal point.
To one side, the jury box, filled with a diverse panel, sat in contemplative silence. The defence and prosecution tables faced each other, meticulously organised with stacks of files, legal pads and pieces of evidence. A stenographer diligently recorded every word, adding a rhythmic clatter to the proceedings.
The walls, adorned with solemn portraits, seemed to have witnessed years of legal battles. A flag stood proudly in the corner, a symbol of justice. As the proceedings unfolded, the room echoed with the weight of legal discourse and the pursuit of truth.
The people and the press were excited because this special case had already made newspaper headlines.
The room’s atmosphere held a tense anticipation as the trial began, setting the stage for the legal drama that would unfold.
Judge: “Order! Order! We are here to discuss the case of Ms. Misha and her mysterious pen. Defence Counsel, your opening statement, please.”
The defence attorney stood up.
Defence Attorney: “Your Honour, ladies and gentlemen, today we will show that the defendant, Ms. Misha, is innocent of the charges against her.”
The prosecutor rose confidently.
Prosecutor: “Your Honour, the evidence will demonstrate beyond reasonable doubt that Ms. Misha is guilty of the charge of murder.”
He turned towards Misha.
Prosecutor: “Ms. Misha, can you explain why you didn’t seek help or report the strange behaviour of your pen when it started writing a murder mystery on its own?”
Misha looked frightened.
Misha: “I was really terrified, but I swear I am not lying. It started to write on its own. I felt it had some extraordinary powers in it. I didn’t tell anyone because I don’t remember anything after that.”
The prosecutor smiled sarcastically.
Prosecutor: “Ms. Misha, well done! You have fabricated such a good story. I can bet you are going to get the Booksellers’ Award someday.”
He laughed.
Misha: “No, Your Honour. I am not making up a story.”
Prosecutor: “Then how can you explain seeing yourself dressed like the victim in the story? Are you narrating a Bollywood horror movie scene?”
The prosecutor laughed, and the whole courtroom burst into laughter.
Misha looked humiliated.
Misha: “I don’t know whether it was real or surreal. All I know is that I experienced these things.”
The defence attorney immediately stood up.
Defence Attorney: “Your Honour, we request the court to consider the reliability of the witness’s account. Cross-examination may reveal potential biases. My client is already confused and traumatised.”
Judge: “Objection overruled. Please proceed with your questioning.”
Prosecutor: “Thank you, My Lord. Even if we believe that it was magical, how can you defend yourself against the charge of murdering my deceased client, Rajveer? How can one kill someone unintentionally?”
Misha’s voice trembled.
Misha: “Believe me, it was unintentional. I don’t even know Rajveer. I was in my room only.”
Prosecutor: “But you were found at Rajveer’s cabin.”
The defence attorney immediately intervened.
Defence Attorney: “But the CCTV footage shows that Misha never walked out of her flat that evening.”
The prosecutor looked towards the judge.
Prosecutor: “That may have been forged. My evidence will establish a clear timeline of events leading directly to Ms. Misha. We urge you to consider the facts without doubt.”
The defence attorney stood firmly.
Defence Attorney: “Your Honour! We aren’t questioning the authenticity of the evidence, but I request you to take into consideration the mysterious circumstances that led to the murder. I request you to postpone the proceedings to a later date so that an innocent girl may not suffer injustice.”
The judge looked at both sides.
Judge: “The proceedings of this court are postponed at the request of the Defence Attorney. The courtroom will reconvene on August 16th.”
Defence Attorney: “Thank you, My Lord.”
The judge adjourned the courtroom, his robe swishing behind him as he left.
Misha was escorted back to jail under tight security, as there was a significant risk of her being harmed. The courtyard was packed with people, indicating the case’s immense public interest. Some onlookers were supporting Misha, while others were chanting slogans against her.
“Kill her! Kill her! She’s a murderer!”
Misha lowered her head as she was taken inside.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months.
Two months passed, but the defence attorney couldn’t gather enough evidence in Misha’s favour. It seemed as if the murderer had plotted a foolproof plan that left no way to save Misha.
Misha was always lost in thought. She couldn’t understand who could possibly envy her enough to put her behind bars.
One dreadful night, barely an hour after she had fallen asleep, she heard someone whispering.
Misha opened her eyes only to see a young, beautiful girl dressed in white standing before her.
Misha: “Who are you?”
Her voice was filled with horror.
The girl smiled faintly.
Aparajita: “You don’t know me, but I know you very well, Misha. In fact, I am thankful to you because you helped me take my revenge. I am Aparajita.”
Misha stared at her.
Misha: “Aparajita? I don’t know any Aparajita.”
Aparajita: “You remember. You were writing a story, and your pen suddenly seemed to have magical powers. It started writing on its own.”
Misha’s eyes widened.
Misha: “Yes! How do you know? Do you believe me? Nobody does. Do you know what happened later?”
Aparajita: “I know everything that happened that night.”
Misha screamed.
Misha: “What? How do you know?”
Aparajita looked directly into her eyes.
Aparajita: “Because it was me who plotted the murder through you.”
Misha stepped back.
Misha: “You? But why? What harm did I ever do to you?”
Aparajita: “Nothing, my dear. I simply used you as a disguise to take my revenge.”
Misha: “Isn’t it inhuman to frame an innocent person for your selfish motive?”
Aparajita’s face became cold.
Aparajita: “I was helpless.”
Misha: “Helpless enough to trap someone innocent?”
Aparajita: “I know you suffered a lot because of my actions. Please be patient and listen to my story. I am sure you will understand my situation.”
Misha: “No sad story can compensate for my sufferings.”
Aparajita: “I hope you can understand my situation if you listen patiently.”
Misha wiped her tears.
Misha: “Okay! Tell me. Give me one strong reason for your brutality.”
Aparajita looked at her.
Aparajita: “I am not brutal. In fact, I suffered brutality.”
Misha: “If you were a victim, then why are you free while I am confined to a cell?”
Aparajita: “Please listen to my story first.”
Misha gave a bitter laugh.
Misha: “Okay. I don’t have anything to do in this cell anyway. You are here to entertain me with your story.”
Aparajita smiled sadly.
Aparajita: “Whether it is entertainment or information, you can decide later. Life had been very tough for me. I was born into a poor family, but poverty could never stop me from achieving what I aimed for. I attained my Master’s in Business Administration and secured a job in a top-notch company. Being diligent, I received a promotion during my first year itself.”
She paused.
Aparajita: “But there is a saying—success gathers envy. And I became a striking thorn in everyone’s path. I always tried to be polite with everyone, but I never imagined that people who seemed close to me could also keep grudges in their hearts.”
Her voice became heavy.
Aparajita: “That night, I still remember the New Year party at the office. We were dancing to the rhythm of ‘Abhi Toh Party Shuru Hui Hai’. After dancing for a long time, I felt thirsty and reached for a glass of juice. Only later did I learn that my drink had been spiked with alcohol. I barely remember what happened after that.”
She closed her eyes.
Aparajita: “The next thing I knew, I regained consciousness and found myself lying on a bed, covered with a blanket. As my vision cleared, I saw Rajveer and his friends standing nearby, laughing and celebrating what they believed was their victory over me.”
Misha remained silent.
Aparajita: “I was shattered. In a single night, everything I held dear was ripped away from me. The eyes that once looked at the world with pride and confidence were now lowered in unbearable shame.”
She took a deep breath.
Aparajita: “When they found no fault in my integrity or work ethic, they resorted to the cruelest way to destroy me. I could no longer bear the agony, the humiliation or the betrayal. Believing death was my only escape, I ended my life.”
Aparajita’s eyes filled with pain.
Aparajita: “But death did not grant me peace. It gave me a purpose. They celebrated my silence, never realising that my story had only just begun. I returned not as the broken woman they had destroyed, but as a spirit they would spend the rest of their lives fearing.”
Misha looked at her in disbelief.
Misha: “You should have sought justice.”
Aparajita laughed bitterly.
Aparajita: “Justice? Did you get justice? You are behind bars despite being innocent.”
Misha’s eyes filled with tears.
Misha: “All because of you. But where do I stand between the threads of your story?”
Aparajita: “Wait. Be patient. I am coming to it.”
Aparajita moved closer.
Aparajita: “My soul wandered restlessly, searching for a way to be heard, seeking an escape. Do you remember that night? You were sitting at your study table, writing your story, when the window suddenly slammed shut with a deafening bang. Your pen began moving on its own, and you could feel an invisible force guiding your hand.”
Misha’s eyes widened.
Misha: “Yes… exactly! That’s what I tried to tell the court. But everyone laughed at me. They said I had fabricated the entire story.”
Aparajita gave her a sorrowful smile.
Aparajita: “You were telling the truth.”
Misha’s voice trembled.
Misha: “Then… I was the victim all along? I still don’t understand how I killed Yashraj.”
Aparajita: “You didn’t, dear. It was I who wrote my story through your pen. And the moment you finished writing that scene, I possessed your body and took revenge on the man who had destroyed my life.”
Misha stared at her.
Misha: “But I was in my room. Then how did the police find me in Yashraj’s cabin?”
Aparajita: “I carried you there. I led you to the man who deserved his fate.”
Tears welled up in Misha’s eyes.
Misha: “And now you are free… while I am the one behind bars for a crime I never committed.”
Aparajita lowered her gaze.
Aparajita: “I sought justice, Misha, but in doing so, I condemned an innocent soul.”
Misha cried bitterly.
Misha: “For two months I have lived behind these bars, branded a murderer, abandoned by the world. And all this time, you knew I was innocent.”
Aparajita: “I am sorry for all this, dear, but I need your help.”
Misha stared at her.
Misha: “How can you expect any help from me when I am helpless and confined within these high walls of isolation and undeserved punishment?”
Aparajita smiled.
Aparajita: “You can—the way you did in Yashraj’s murder.”
Misha gave a sarcastic laugh.
Misha: “Of course! I will. And I am so happy to be convicted of two more murders and spend the rest of my life here—or be hanged to death.”
Aparajita: “I promise that I will save you, dear.”
Misha: “The way you landed me here?”
Aparajita looked at her coldly.
Aparajita: “Don’t mind if I say yes. If I can plot a murder through you, I can save you as well.”
Misha shook her head.
Misha: “I am here under tight security and you expect me to do this for you?”
Aparajita: “You were in your room when I killed Rajveer.”
Misha remained silent.
Misha: “Even if I help you, do you think you will get justice?”
Aparajita: “At least my soul may get solace, and nasty people like Karan may think twice before committing such a sin.”
Misha: “There are things like law and justice.”
Aparajita laughed bitterly.
Aparajita: “Do you still believe in justice? Law and justice are meant for rich people, and people like us are born to suffer.”
Misha sighed.
Misha: “If you have made up your mind, then I am ready for two more sins because I think you aren’t letting me go at any cost.”
Aparajita smiled.
Aparajita: “I will be grateful to you, and I will not let you die of a false accusation. I promise. The two other culprits are Rajveer and Karan. Let’s end Karan tonight. He usually spends his evenings in the swimming pool, and I want him to die of an electric shock because my bruises demand his painful end. He poked cigarettes into my body.”
She smiled grimly.
Misha: “Oh, my God! The more you reveal, the more determined I am to help you, dear Aparajita, my friend. You lived inside me that night, and I am so sorry I couldn’t feel your pain.”
Aparajita: “Let’s go without wasting any time.”
Aparajita touched Misha’s shoulder.
In the blink of an eye, they were gone.
KARAN’S MURDER
At Karan’s cottage, he was lying on a couch with a brimming glass of wine, drunk enough to have lost his senses. Yet his pale face showed something else.
Fear.
He knew his turn was coming after Rajveer.
He had already asked for police security, and a police constable was keeping vigil outside his cottage.
Misha and Aparajita stood there watching.
Misha: “How can we enter the cottage under such tight security?”
Aparajita laughed sternly.
Aparajita: “You don’t worry about it. I will manage.”
The police constable was scrolling through his phone.
Aparajita went closer and touched the phone.
It suddenly began ringing.
Police Constable: “Good evening, Sir! What? But… I am alone here. Okay. Just for an hour. I will be there.”
The police constable rushed to his bike.
Aparajita signalled Misha to come.
Misha was surprised.
Misha: “What happened? Why did the police constable leave?”
Aparajita laughed.
Aparajita: “I called him as the Commissioner.”
Misha stared at her.
Misha: “But you weren’t carrying a phone!”
Aparajita: “Dear, I don’t need anything. I can do whatever I want.”
Misha: “Then you could have killed Karan yourself! Why are you involving me?”
Aparajita: “I need a body to possess, and I found a beautiful and compassionate person in you.”
Misha hesitated.
Misha: “But what if I get caught?”
Aparajita: “You don’t worry about it.”
Misha: “I am doing this not because I trust you, but because I want you to have eternal peace.”
Aparajita: “Come on! Let’s rush before the constable arrives.”
They both made their way into the mansion.
But the people there could see only Misha walking along the corridor, clad in a servant’s uniform and carrying a tray of chilled champagne.
The head servant raised an eyebrow as she made her way towards the pool.
Head Servant: “Who are you?”
Misha stopped. Her feet froze to the ground.
She slowly turned, hiding her nervousness.
Misha: “I am Julie, Karan Sir’s personal aide.”
Head Servant: “I have seen you for the first time!”
Misha: “Yes, Sir. I joined this morning itself. Rohan Sir sent me.”
Head Servant: “Okay. But wait. I need to check your appointment letter.”
Misha: “Sure, Sir. I will just serve the drink and come back to you.”
Head Servant: “No. Let me be clear. I need to verify that you have actually been appointed.”
Misha: “Sure.”
They both went into the cabin, and Misha was shocked to see an appointment letter with her photograph on it.
The head servant checked it carefully.
Head Servant: “Okay. You can go now.”
Misha: “Thanks, Sir.”
Misha took the tray and swiftly made her way towards the pool.
But she couldn’t understand how she had taken Rohan’s name when she didn’t even know him and how on earth that appointment letter had appeared on the table.
Aparajita: “Don’t overthink, dear. You might have understood by now how easily I can manage any situation.”
Misha: “I was so scared!”
Aparajita: “Don’t be afraid, dear.”
Beyond the grand glass doors lay the swimming pool—a breathtaking expanse of deep blue water tucked into the heart of the sprawling estate.
It was enormous, stretching almost the entire length of the rear courtyard. Veined white marble framed the pool, gleaming beneath the warm afternoon sun, while sleek black stone walls gave the space a sophisticated, almost dramatic character. At one end, water flowed silently from a raised marble ledge, creating a continuous silver curtain that broke the otherwise still surface.
The pool seemed designed less for a crowd and more for privacy. Tall palms and carefully trimmed hedges surrounded it, shielding the entire area from the outside world. A few enormous ivory loungers stood beneath oversized umbrellas, untouched, as though they existed more for appearance than use.
At night, concealed lights beneath the water transformed the pool into a luminous blue jewel. The glass walls of the mansion reflected across its surface, making it difficult to tell where the house ended and the water began.
There was an undeniable extravagance to it—but also something strangely lonely.
Everything was perfect.
The marble was spotless.
The water was still.
Not a single detail was out of place.
And yet, standing beside it, one couldn’t help feeling that this beautiful pool belonged to a man who was accustomed to having everything he wanted—and rarely allowed anyone close enough to truly know him.
Misha stepped out into the pool area, the bottle of champagne resting carefully in her hand.
The mansion was unusually quiet.
Only the soft sound of water disturbed the stillness.
Karan was in the pool, leaning against the edge, his hair damp and falling messily across his forehead. The faint glow of the underwater lights illuminated his face, but his unfocused eyes and the half-empty glass beside him made it obvious that he had been drinking.
The moment he saw her, his gaze fixed on the bottle.
Karan: “Hey, Julie! You look stunning.”
His voice was low.
Misha stopped.
Karan: “Bring it here.”
Misha hesitated before walking towards him. She reached the marble steps leading into the pool, keeping a cautious distance.
Before she could say anything, Karan reached out.
With one hand, he took the champagne bottle from hers. With the other, he caught her wrist.
Misha froze.
His fingers closed tightly around her wrist, startling her. A flash of fear crossed her face as she instinctively tried to pull back.
Misha: “Sir, please.”
He looked up at her, his expression unreadable through the haze of alcohol.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The silence of the enormous pool suddenly felt suffocating.
Misha could hear her own heartbeat. She glanced down at his hand around her wrist and then back at his face.
Misha: “Let me go.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
Karan stared at her for another moment, as though her words had to travel through the fog of alcohol before reaching him.
Then his grip loosened.
Misha immediately stepped back, keeping her eyes on him.
The champagne bottle remained in his hand, the golden liquid catching the blue light from the pool.
And somehow, despite the mansion being surrounded by light and luxury, Misha had never felt more alone.
She filled his glass to the brim.
Karan gulped the drink and plunged into the water.
Misha ran towards the electric socket where a loose electric wire had been hidden. She slowly took the wire and threw it into the pool.
The very next moment, Karan suffered a powerful electric shock. His body stiffened, his eyes widened, and his face turned bluish as his body sank beneath the water.
Aparajita witnessed it with a sigh of relief.
Her face showed contentment and peace.
The next moment, they made their exit from the pool area.
The head servant stopped Misha on the way.
Head Servant: “Julie! What happened? You look pale.”
Misha: “Yes. Karan Sir misbehaved with me.”
The head servant shrugged.
Head Servant: “Don’t you know the nature of the job? You should get accustomed to all this nonsense if you are in this line of work.”
Misha: “I will get accustomed to this soon.”
Misha rushed towards the lounge and stealthily slipped out through the back door.
Within no time, Misha was back in her prison cell.
The sentry looked at her in surprise.
Sentry: “Why are you still awake?”
Misha: “I was sleeping. There are a lot of mosquitoes here. You people don’t even have mosquito spray.”
The sentry smirked.
Sentry: “Okay. We will provide VIP treatment to culprits now.”
Misha: “I’m not a culprit! I will soon prove my innocence.”
Sentry: “Prove it whenever you need to. Now sleep.”
Misha looked towards Aparajita.
Aparajita smiled and disappeared into the darkness of the night.
The head servant headed towards the pool to check on Karan, who had been in the water for a long time.
Karan was sitting still near the staircase, his body almost completely immersed in the water.
The servant went near him.
Head Servant: “Sir! You have been in the pool for a long time, and dinner is also ready.”
Karan did not reply.
The servant asked again.
There was no response.
He touched Karan.
Suddenly, he screamed.
Head Servant: “Karan Sir!”
His voice echoed hollowly through the silent mansion, chilled by the sudden realisation that his master lay dead before him.
He immediately called the sentry to look into the matter.
THE IMPOSSIBLE EVIDENCE
The next day rose like a suspense-packed roller coaster.
The police began investigating Karan’s death.
It was noted that Karan had died due to an electric shock caused by a connected electric wire lying in the water.
The CCTV footage showed Misha carrying a tray of champagne for Karan.
Upon enquiry, the head servant said that a newly appointed personal aide of Karan, named Julie, had been the last person to meet him before his murder.
There was, however, one terrifying problem.
Julie looked exactly like Misha.
And if it was Misha, then how could she have been at the mansion while she was simultaneously sitting inside a prison cell?
It was a question that kept the investigators completely clueless.
There was a huge commotion at the jail.
Misha was called and questioned about where she had been during the previous night.
The CCTV footage at the jail and the sentry confirmed that Misha had been inside her cell throughout the night.
Misha was asked whether she had a twin sister or a look-alike.
She denied it, saying that she was the only child of her parents and had no idea what had happened that night while she had been struggling with the mosquitoes in her cell.
The police also began to suspect that someone else might be the culprit, playing games by appearing as Misha.
Perhaps Misha really was innocent, just as she had claimed from the very beginning.
The case had now raised more suspicions than answers.
The police were unable to trace any concrete evidence.
Misha was having her breakfast.
She looked into her plate and her eyes brimmed with tears as she remembered how choosy she used to be about food.
Sandwiches, burgers, chicken wings and garlic dips seemed to dance on her plate in her imagination.
Misha: “Oh, how I miss my platter!”
Suddenly, she realised that it wasn’t her imagination.
Her plate was actually filled with all those delicacies.
She touched them to make sure they were real.
Her face gleamed with happiness.
She looked around for Aparajita, knowing that only she could have replaced her simple prison breakfast with such a lavish platter.
She saw Aparajita sitting nearby and smiling at her.
Misha finished her platter quickly and burped with contentment.
After breakfast, Aparajita whispered:
Aparajita: “Our last target will breathe his last tonight.”
Misha looked at her.
Misha: “Who’s that?”
Aparajita: “Rohan.”
Her voice was filled with bitterness.
Aparajita: “I want to kill him brutally. He was very harsh to me.”
Misha sighed.
Misha: “Earlier I was reluctant to help you. Now I feel happy serving these baddies. Even if I die in between, I will be the happiest soul to depart.”
Aparajita looked at her seriously.
Aparajita: “Don’t say that. I am not letting you die, my dear.”
THE COURTROOM — KARAN’S MURDER HEARING
The next morning, the courtroom was packed.
The prosecutor placed the CCTV footage before the court.
Prosecutor: “My Lord, the accused, Misha, was captured on CCTV at Karan’s residence on the night of his death.”
The footage began to play.
Misha’s face appeared clearly on the screen.
Rohan watched the screen.
Misha remained completely expressionless.
The prosecutor turned towards her.
Prosecutor: “Can you explain why you were at the deceased’s mansion?”
Misha said nothing.
The judge looked at her.
Judge: “Misha?”
She slowly raised her eyes.
And for just a second, her expression changed.
It was no longer Misha’s expression.
It was Aparajita’s.
Misha: “I wasn’t there.”
A murmur swept through the courtroom.
The prosecutor immediately replied.
Prosecutor: “The CCTV says otherwise.”
The defence attorney looked closely at the screen.
Suddenly, he noticed something.
Defence Attorney: “Your Honour… I would like the court to look at the timestamp.”
The prosecutor checked.
His confidence disappeared.
The defence attorney continued.
Defence Attorney: “Because at the exact same time this footage allegedly shows Misha at Karan’s mansion… she was inside the prison.”
Silence.
The judge looked towards the police.
Judge: “Bring the jail CCTV footage.”
The footage was displayed.
At the exact same timestamp, the jail camera showed Misha sitting inside her cell.
A constable walked past.
Misha never left.
The timestamp was clearly visible.
Same date.
Same time.
The courtroom fell silent.
The prosecutor stared at the screen.
Prosecutor: “That’s impossible.”
The judge looked at him.
Judge: “Explain.”
The prosecutor had no answer.
Everyone looked at Misha.
Rohan looked terrified.
Because he knew what this meant.
Then Misha slowly turned towards him.
And whispered, almost inaudibly:
Misha: “You saw her too, didn’t you?”
Rohan’s face went white.
Because he knew “her” wasn’t Misha.
It was Aparajita.
Rohan sat frozen in his chair.
The courtroom seemed to grow strangely quiet around him, although voices were still murmuring everywhere.
His eyes remained fixed on the screen.
Misha was there.
He had seen her at Karan’s mansion.
He was certain of it.
But the jail footage showed her sitting inside her cell at the exact same time.
His fingers slowly tightened around the edge of the table.
No.
There had to be an explanation.
A mistake in the timestamp.
A manipulated recording.
Someone who looked like her.
Anything.
Anything except what his mind was desperately trying to tell him.
Then Misha looked at him.
Not like Misha.
For one terrifying second, he saw Aparajita in her eyes.
The same eyes.
The same cold, accusing gaze.
Rohan’s breathing became shallow.
His mind went back to that night.
Rajveer.
The cabin.
Karan.
And now Misha.
He lowered his eyes, afraid that if he looked at her again, she would know exactly what he was thinking.
She’s dead.
He repeated it silently.
She’s dead.
But somewhere deep inside him, a terrible thought had already taken root.
What if death hadn’t stopped Aparajita?
And for the first time since the investigation began, Rohan wasn’t afraid of being arrested.
He was afraid of being alone.
THE HORROR BEGINS
That night, Rohan went home.
He had already asked for extra protection and security. He had even called several tantriks because he knew he might be Aparajita’s next target.
He took a shower and reached his bed.
He knew he wouldn’t sleep.
He couldn’t even blink without imagining her standing before him.
He closed his eyes.
For a few seconds, there was silence.
Then he felt a presence.
A familiar scent filled the room.
A perfume he knew.
A perfume that belonged to someone who was supposed to be dead.
Rohan’s eyes flew open.
Aparajita was sitting beside his pillow.
He screamed.
Rohan: “Why? But why did you people do this to me?”
Aparajita stared at him.
Aparajita: “Do you remember that terrifying night?”
Rohan trembled.
Aparajita: “Do you remember how you people ruined my dignity and killed me?”
Rohan pleaded.
Rohan: “Please forgive me!”
Aparajita’s eyes burned with anger.
Aparajita: “I am not going to pardon you.”
Rohan: “At least kill me then. I can’t live with this fear anymore.”
He fell to his knees.
Rohan: “Kill me, please. Have mercy!”
Aparajita smiled coldly.
Aparajita: “Mercy? On you? Never.”
Rohan began crying.
Rohan: “I can’t undo what happened. What can I do now?”
Aparajita stepped closer.
Aparajita: “That innocent girl, Misha, is suffering because of you, and you beg pardon from me?”
Rohan covered his face.
Aparajita disappeared.
But her voice remained.
Aparajita: “Tell the truth.”
The next week continued with hues of terror for Rohan and ambiguity for the police.
Every night, strange things happened.
Doors opened on their own.
Lights flickered.
The scent of Aparajita’s perfume filled Rohan’s room.
Sometimes he heard footsteps outside his bedroom.
Sometimes he heard a pen scratching against paper.
Yet every time he looked, there was nothing.
Rohan stopped sleeping.
He stopped eating.
He was terrified of darkness.
He was terrified of mirrors.
Most of all, he was terrified of the sound of a pen moving across paper.
Meanwhile, the police were becoming increasingly suspicious of him.
And then came the day of the final hearing.
THE FINAL HEARING
Misha was brought into the courtroom under tight security.
The courtroom fell into a deathly silence.
The press crowded the benches.
The jury sat rigidly.
The police stood alert.
Rohan sat trembling.
Misha stood inside the accused box, her hands trembling as the judge prepared to deliver the final verdict in the cases of Rajveer and Karan.
The judge looked down at the evidence before him.
Judge: “After examining the evidence, witness statements and circumstances presented before this court, this court finds Misha guilty…”
Misha’s breath caught.
The courtroom remained silent.
The judge continued.
Judge: “For the crimes committed against Rajveer and Karan, the accused is hereby sentenced to death by hanging until—”
He stopped.
Misha’s face turned pale.
Her eyes instinctively searched the courtroom.
And then she saw her.
Aparajita.
Standing silently at the back.
Watching her.
Misha’s lips trembled.
Suddenly, the judge’s pen began to shake.
Once.
Twice.
Then violently.
The judge tried to hold it, but his fingers seemed powerless.
The pen moved across the paper.
By itself.
The entire courtroom watched in stunned silence as two words appeared beneath the verdict.
MISHA — INNOCENT.
The judge stared at the paper.
Judge: “What…?”
A sudden gust of wind tore through the courtroom.
Papers flew from the tables.
Curtains billowed violently.
Yet, strangely, there was no chaos in the air.
Instead, an inexplicable serenity filled the room.
The judge slowly looked towards Misha.
The accused box was empty.
Misha was standing in the aisle.
And behind her stood Aparajita.
Rohan suddenly stumbled backwards.
Rohan: “No…”
Aparajita’s eyes turned towards him.
Rohan tried to run.
He never made it.
An unseen force seized him by the collar and hurled him onto the courtroom floor.
Gasps erupted from every corner.
Rohan struggled to breathe.
Aparajita stood over him.
Aparajita: “Tell them.”
Her voice was barely a whisper.
But it echoed through the entire courtroom.
Rohan’s resistance collapsed.
His eyes filled with terror.
Rohan: “We… we did it.”
The courtroom froze.
Rohan: “Rajveer, Karan and I…”
His voice broke.
Rohan: “We were jealous of Aparajita. She was younger than us… a junior… yet she was promoted before we were.”
He swallowed hard.
Rohan: “We couldn’t accept it.”
Misha stared at him, tears filling her eyes.
Rohan continued.
Rohan: “What we did to her… was unforgivable.”
He lowered his head.
Rohan: “We assaulted her.”
A collective gasp swept through the courtroom.
“And when she threatened to expose us…”
His voice became almost inaudible.
Rohan: “We killed her.”
Silence.
Not a single person moved.
Then Rohan looked up at Aparajita.
Rohan: “You came back for us.”
Aparajita said nothing.
Her eyes moved slowly across the courtroom before settling on Misha.
For a moment, the fury disappeared from her face.
There was only peace.
The wind that had filled the courtroom gradually subsided.
The judge looked down at the verdict once more.
The words were still there.
MISHA — INNOCENT.
And beneath them, in handwriting no human hand had written, another sentence slowly appeared.
“JUSTICE IS NOT REVENGE. IT IS THE TRUTH THAT REFUSES TO DIE.”
Aparajita smiled faintly.
Then she vanished.
Misha stood alone.
Free.
But the courtroom remained frozen.
No one knew what to say.
No one dared to move.
The same people who had laughed at Misha during the first hearing were now staring at the very pen that had written her innocence.
The prosecutor slowly approached the judge’s desk.
He looked at the pen.
Then at the words.
Then at Misha.
His voice trembled.
Prosecutor: “Your Honour…”
The judge looked at him.
Prosecutor: “Perhaps… we were wrong.”
The judge said nothing.
He looked at the pen lying on his desk.
The very same pen had just exposed the truth that the police, the investigators, the lawyers and the entire justice system had failed to uncover.
The stenographer suddenly noticed something.
A single sheet of paper had fallen beneath the judge’s desk.
He picked it up.
His face turned pale.
Stenographer: “Your Honour…”
Everyone turned towards him.
Judge: “What is it?”
The stenographer slowly handed over the paper.
The judge read it.
His hands began to tremble.
The paper contained the complete story of Aparajita.
Her promotion.
Her jealousy-driven colleagues.
The party.
The spiked drink.
The assault.
The murder.
Everything.
Even details that only the killers could have known.
At the bottom of the page was one final line.
“Now let the living tell the truth.”
The judge looked towards Rohan.
Rohan had collapsed onto the floor.
The police immediately surrounded him.
For the first time, there was no ghost standing beside him.
No invisible force.
No supernatural voice.
Only the truth.
And Rohan finally understood that Aparajita had never needed to kill him.
She had wanted him to confess.
The courtroom had become her witness.
THE VERDICT OF THE ERA
The judge called for order, but his own voice trembled.
Judge: “This court has heard an admission that changes the entire course of this case.”
He looked towards Rohan.
Judge: “Mr. Rohan, your confession has exposed a crime that remained buried beneath fear, influence and silence.”
Rohan lowered his head.
The judge continued.
Judge: “The deaths of Rajveer and Karan cannot be treated as isolated incidents. They were consequences of a chain of events that began with the brutal destruction of an innocent woman.”
He paused.
Judge: “And today, another innocent woman almost lost her life because the truth was hidden.”
He looked towards Misha.
Judge: “Ms. Misha, this court apologises to you.”
Misha stood silently.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
For months she had waited for someone to believe her.
Today, the entire courtroom believed her.
The judge raised the pen.
Judge: “This pen may not be admissible as evidence in the conventional sense. Yet whatever happened here has revealed facts that could not otherwise have been known.”
He looked towards Rohan.
Judge: “The court therefore orders a complete investigation into the crimes committed against Aparajita.”
The police took Rohan into custody.
As they led him away, he suddenly stopped.
He looked towards the back of the courtroom.
Aparajita was standing there.
Only he could see her.
She smiled.
Not with anger.
Not with revenge.
With peace.
Rohan’s lips trembled.
Rohan: “Aparajita…”
The police looked back.
There was nobody there.
Rohan was taken away.
Misha slowly walked towards the judge’s desk.
She looked at the pen.
For a moment, she was afraid to touch it.
Then she picked it up.
Nothing happened.
No movement.
No whisper.
No supernatural force.
Just a pen.
A simple pen.
Misha smiled through her tears.
Misha: “Are you finally at peace?”
The courtroom remained silent.
A gentle breeze entered through the windows.
The curtains moved softly.
And somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of a woman laughing peacefully seemed to echo through the hall.
Misha closed her eyes.
Misha: “Goodbye, Aparajita.”
She placed the pen back on the judge’s desk.
And then something unexpected happened.
The pen rolled slowly across the desk.
It stopped directly in front of the judge.
The judge stared at it.
A single drop of ink appeared on the paper.
Then another.
The ink formed one final word.
“THANK YOU.”
Nobody spoke.
Nobody moved.
The judge slowly removed his glasses.
The prosecutor lowered his head.
The defence attorney wiped his tears.
Even the jury remained silent.
The press, which had once arrived to report the sensational murder of Yashraj, now sat witnessing something that no newspaper headline could adequately describe.
The courtroom had begun with laughter.
It had continued with accusations.
It had witnessed disbelief.
It had witnessed fear.
And finally, it had witnessed the truth.
THE FIRST HEARING — REMEMBERED
Later that evening, one of the journalists who had attended both hearings wrote in his notebook:
At the first hearing, Misha told the court that her pen had written a murder mystery on its own.
Everyone laughed.
The prosecutor called it a fabricated story.
The courtroom called it imagination.
The police called it an excuse.
The newspapers called it madness.
But today, the same courtroom watched the pen write the truth.
The journalist stopped writing for a moment.
He looked towards the empty accused box.
Then he wrote one final sentence:
Perhaps some truths are too powerful to remain buried.
The story had now come full circle.
At the first hearing, Misha had stood trembling before the judge and claimed that her pen had started writing on its own.
She had told them that she had unknowingly become part of a murder mystery.
She had told them that she had witnessed herself killing Rajveer without even knowing him.
Nobody believed her.
They laughed.
They mocked her.
They called her a liar.
They believed that a supernatural story could never stand before a court of law.
But now, everyone in that very courtroom—the judge, the jury, the police, the lawyers, the witnesses and even the press—had experienced the same inexplicable chain of events.
The mysterious pen.
The impossible CCTV footage.
Misha appearing in two places at the same time.
Aparajita appearing before Rohan.
The confession.
And finally, the words written by an invisible hand.
MISHA — INNOCENT.
The truth had taken months to reveal itself.
But when it finally emerged, it did not knock politely on the doors of justice.
It broke them open.
The case that had once been called the strangest murder mystery of the era was now remembered for something far greater.
It became known as the case of the pen that knew the truth.
And then came the most spectacular judgement of the era.
The verdict was no longer against Misha.
It was against the silence that had protected Rohan.
The judge looked at him one final time.
Judge: “Rohan, you thought you had killed Aparajita twice—once by taking her life and again by burying the truth.”
Rohan looked up.
The judge continued.
Judge: “But you were wrong.”
He paused.
Judge: “You only gave her a reason to return.”
The courtroom fell silent.
Judge: “This court cannot bring Aparajita back. No judgement can return the years, dignity or life that were stolen from her. But this court can ensure that her truth is no longer buried.”
Rohan lowered his head.
The judge delivered the final order.
Judge: “The court finds Rohan guilty of the crimes confessed before this court and orders the law to take its course. Let the investigation into all those responsible for Aparajita’s suffering be reopened. Let her name be cleared. Let the world know that she was not the shameful woman they tried to portray her as. She was a victim who was silenced.”
He looked towards Misha.
Judge: “And let it be recorded that Ms. Misha was never the murderer.”
Misha closed her eyes.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
For months she had lived with the weight of a crime that was never hers.
Today, that weight was finally gone.
As Misha walked out of the courtroom, the press rushed towards her.
Microphones were held out.
Cameras flashed.
Questions came from every direction.
“Who was Aparajita?”
“Did you really see her?”
“Was the pen actually supernatural?”
“Did she possess you?”
“Are you afraid?”
Misha stopped.
She looked back at the courtroom.
Then she smiled.
Misha: “I was afraid when nobody believed me.”
The reporters became silent.
Misha: “I am not afraid anymore.”
She looked at the pen in her hand.
Misha: “Because now the truth has spoken for itself.”
A reporter stepped closer.
Reporter: “Misha, do you believe Aparajita used you, or do you believe she saved you?”
Misha looked down at the pen.
Misha: “Both. She used my body to seek revenge, but she also used the truth to set me free.”
Another reporter raised a microphone.
Reporter: “Will you ever write again?”
Misha glanced back at the courtroom doors.
Misha: “Yes. But this time, I will make sure I know whose story I am telling.”
A third reporter called out.
Reporter: “Do you think the pen is still magical?”
Misha held it up for a moment.
Misha: “I don’t know whether the pen is magical. But I know that truth has a way of finding its own voice.”
The reporters exchanged stunned looks.
One final question came from the crowd.
Reporter: “Are you afraid that Aparajita may return again?”
Misha smiled faintly.
Misha: “No. If she returns, I know she will not come for revenge. She will come only if the truth is forgotten.”
She walked away.
Behind her, the courtroom doors slowly closed.
Inside, the judge remained seated.
The pen lay silently on the desk.
For several minutes, nothing happened.
Then, without anyone touching it, the pen moved.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
It wrote one final sentence.
“Every story has an ending. But the truth never does.”
The pen stopped.
The ink dried.
And this time, nobody laughed.
Because everyone in that courtroom knew—
the pen had not written a murder mystery.
It had written a confession.
It had written a warning.
It had written justice.
And above all…
it had written the truth.
